Vontus: Breaking the Chain
by Macrom Vontus
Summary: Macrom Vontus returns from his traumatic past with a vengeance and seeks to eliminate those responsible for his misery. Rated M (Violence, Language)
1. Chapter 1

1 sweep later

The aircraft landed. It was rather warm and the wind was blowing. Trolls in suits lined up and exited the aircraft and onto the landing pad. They all carried suitcases and whatnot. They funneled into a building that was surrounded by hundreds of imperial guardsmen. The elevator button was pushed and it bought them to the 13th floor, which harbored one room. In this room was one long table with many seats. They all sat. It was quiet for quite a while, and then one spoke. "Regarding the situation in the north. Have we found this mysterious vigilante yet?" All of them shook their heads in disappointment. The same man spoke again. "You realize that if the murders continue then we will take increasingly drastic action." Everyone robotically shook their head in agreement. He stood up. "We scramble the drones in about 48 hours. Here in my hand is the authorization form for the attack. This runs through the condesce's fingers, and we're in the green. Is that clear?" Everyone shook their head in agreement, and then another stood up and spoke. "That's strange... I was given an authorization form as well."

"That cannot be right. Give it to me so I can verify its authenticity."

The second one opened his suitcase and fiddled with his papers for a while. He then stopped and grabbed something from the case. "Oh, yes. Here it is." He then stopped everything. The supposed leader of the bunch held out his hand. "You going to give it to me or not?"

"Well... if you insist."

The second troll pulled knives from the suitcase and threw them into the leader, killing him. The rest of them stood up and one managed to raise an alarm. But that was all they were able to do before they had gotten their very own sets of knives. The assassin took a hat from inside his case and put it on, walked back into the elevator, pushed the button, and descended. When the doors opened, he was met by hundreds of imperial guardsmen. He stood there. One of them gestured for him to move out of the way, to which he promptly did so. He walked through the guardsmen running into the elevator and back into the aircraft. The pilot looked at him curiously. "What the hell is going on in there?" The assassin responded. "One of them sneezed and now all of the guardsmen are running in there with their individual handkerchiefs. Now I'm going to need you to take off."

"Why?"

The assassin killed the pilot after his inquiry statement. "Because that's what happens if you don't."

The assassin took off his hat and started the engine. He carved a symbol on the pilot's body, and threw him onto the landing pad before leaving. The sun rises and the aircraft takes off.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hopes**

The brutal Alternian sun was at zenith point when the assassin turned his newly acquired aircraft to autopilot. He took off his hat and patted out his suit. Surprisingly, there was not a speck of blood on it. Which was good because then he can keep the nice clothes, just in case he wanted to go on a night out or something. He carefully took the suit off revealing the silky smooth golden scarf that hung around his neck, along with a black polyester shirt that looked expertly crafted with intensive care to detail. The shirt had a symbol patterned in the very center. The belt of deadly equipment he had worn under his disguise was light, but carried some deceptively devious tools. He shook out his hair, which was black as the night itself. His horns zigzagged backwards in a chaotic, yet elegant manner. He sat back in the shaded cabin as the aircraft gently flew to its ordered destination.

The troll reached under his seat and pulled out a small black book which he had initially left there when he landed. He opened it and took a pen out from his tool belt. He began writing.

"Targets 22A-F

Status: Fulfilled

Debrief: The general defense committee of the north has been neutralized and with that being said, my home was saved from imperialistic slaughter. My informant may expect me to ask for my payment, but this time the satisfaction of knowing that I've saved countless lives is enough payment for me. Sometimes I wonder why I even ask of payment if my goal is freedom from such loyalties. I've become my own enigma… But I digress. As much as I would love to keep this really expensive aircraft, I cannot. It will be demolished directly on the LZ and I will begin my journey back home. I don't plan to walk very far.

-M.V"

M.V was a signature well known among the few freedom fighters on Alternian soil. They have proclaimed the signature's bearer as "The Shadow of Vigilance". This troll was none other than Macrom Vontus, a past nobody with a passion for righteousness and revenge. Macrom closed the book after signing. The book's new entry does not go to said "informant" nor does it go to a secret society for records. This was his personal journal. Usually, a troll would keep a journal to pass it to his or her next of kin, but Macrom was certain that he would never have another troll born into his bloodline. He was still too young to think of death, but he was also old enough to see the reality before him and accept it. Macrom had accepted that one day his line of work would probably get him killed, but he won't allow it until he comes into direct contact with the matriarch... Her Imperious Condescension.

He yearned for her blood to be on his hands for the longest time. He is only 9 sweeps old. He has a whole life of what he does best ahead of him, and what he does best can kill him. He was keeping the journal so just in case he does finish his task, and dies doing so, the people can tell his story. The sun was left behind the aircraft as it had reached the other end of the planet, and thus its destination. Macrom sat down on the pilot's seat and slowly bought the craft down, he gathered his various belongings and left the aircraft, kicking out the landing gear and sending it tumbling down a cliff just before he began his walk home. Just in the distance could he see the glistening lights of the city. It was beckoning. A well needed respite from days of planning and execution… warm cup of tea, favorite movie, plenty of sleep. Sounded like heaven to Macrom. He took his first step toward home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Violence**

Macrom was walking for two whole hours before he stopped at a glistening spring in the forest between the tundra and the city. Alternian terrain always fascinated him. For one moment he imagined being somewhere closer to the equatorial line. It was warm there. The nip of the frost was ever lingering in the north, but that did not stop nature from producing such wonders as that which stood before him. Macrom was about to leave, but then came a barely audible rustling of the frozen bushes nearby. There was no wind. This sound was created by an entity.

Macrom stopped admiring the beauty of the springs and steadied his breathing to near silence. The air seemed to have hushed on his command, and he perked his ears up. He was waiting for another sound. His hand seemed to move like fluid in slow motion as he reached to his hip holster. There was the crunch of leaves, thus confirming the presence of a second party in the area. The crunching and rusting became more frequent and drew closer and closer. Macrom judged the volume of the steps, concluding that this was no doubt another troll. Suddenly, there were new sounds. A small metallic click and the sound of something slowly rubbing against heavy fabrics. Someone just unbuttoned and began drawing a weapon from a hip holster as well, and judging by the volume, Macrom knew that the assailant was at point blank.

This was going exactly how he had planned. Macrom smiled as he took his hands off his gun, and slowly bought them up. There was a pressing of cold hard steel against his neck. This was it. This was do or die. Macrom let out a soft laugh, played off to be sarcastic submission. "Well… good job trooper. You got me. Should have pulled the trigger at a range though." Macrom's plan swung into full motion. Macrom dropped to the ground below, ending up underneath the hitman's weapon. As expected, the reaction would be to point down. Macrom's counter was simple. Point up. Macrom waited the millisecond it took for the merc to point the gun downward and prepare to pull the trigger, he quickly jumped upward, sending the business end under the chin of the attacker, the attacker's reflexes delay, and they pull the trigger, sending their own bullet through their skull. The shot rang out for miles. Macrom turned to face his attacker and looked upon him with disappointment. "Tsk tsk tsk…. These guys are getting so easy they are literally killing THEMSELVES…. The Batterwitch could do so much better."

Macrom paid his condolences to the one who for once he did not technically kill, and then walked onward toward home. He reached the city limits within maybe a few hours, where he had rebuilt his hive from scratch in the same spot it had always been: in that old warehouse wreckage forgotten by time. He unlocks the 2 foot thick steel door and walks downward, being greeted by the fireplace's light and warmth. All he could think of this was "I missed you too, old friend." He breathed in the sweet home air as he laid strewn across a fancy couch he had stolen from a government supply line. Next to him, a bottle of aged alternian brandy and a glass that was calling his name. He drank and danced the night away. Come sunrise, merry Macrom Vontus was passed out.


End file.
